


poetry in motion

by moonatoms



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-01-06 20:26:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12218325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonatoms/pseuds/moonatoms
Summary: A collection of some more flower-y short one-shots and drabbles.





	1. a spectrum of colours

_pink)_

Pink, colour of the cocktail she orders when she shows up drunk at Lux one evening. Pink, colour of the ribbon she attaches to her blazer when her mother is diagnosed with breast cancer. Pink, colour of the ratty oversized t-shirt he carelessly plucks from her closet the day her mother dies, donning it quickly while she lies numbly on her bed, arms wrapped around herself and eyes staring listlessly ahead. He holds her all throughout the night.

And when she finally cries, he feels his heart break.

 

_violet)_

Violet, colour of the tulips he buys her for their first date because he knows they are her favourite flower. Violet, colour of the pocket square he wears when he first tells her he loves her in the middle of an angry fight. She tells him she loves him, too, then and the kiss that follows is tender and bruising at the same time. Violet, colour of the bedsheets when they make up and she repeats that she loves him again and again until he, too, believes it.

And when she wraps herself around him afterwards, he knows he’s home.

 

_blue)_

Blue, colour of the night sky where he once hung the stars billions of years ago. They drive out to see them sometimes and she laughs when the wind tangles up her hair. Blue, colour of the ocean that ebbed and flowed beside them when they first kissed. Blue, colour of her eyes, light and dark and warm and cold or all at once. They light up sometimes, when she smiles in that way he knows is reserved just for him, and it’s brighter than any star could ever shine.

And when he catches himself falling into their depth, he knows she won’t let him drown.

 

_turquoise)_

Turquoise, colour of the pendant he gives her for her birthday. She wears it every day. Turquoise, colour of the ocean on their first real vacation. She collects too many seashells and wraps them up in one of his expensive towels, but when she smiles at him all excitedly, he finds he can’t really be mad. Turquoise, colour of the nightgown she is wearing the first time he wakes from a nightmare in which she dies. She doesn’t speak for a while, just holds him close.

And when she finally presses his hand to the skin above her heart and tells him she’s not going anywhere, he tries to believe her. 

 

_green)_

Green, colour of the olives she picks out of her food and puts on his plate instead. Green, colour of the coffee cup he brings her every morning. Green, colour of his jealousy when the new detective flirts with her. She tells him he doesn’t have anything to worry about because she only wants to be with him.

And when she kisses him softly, he knows it’s true.

 

_yellow)_

Yellow, colour of the pillow he clutches to his body the first time her daughter inevitably walks in on them. Yellow, colour of the wasp that stings her on their anniversary. They spend the evening in the ER instead of the fancy restaurant he’d chosen and he has the food delivered to her hospital bed. Yellow, colour of the sunlight filtering through the blinds the first morning after they have moved in together. He never thought this would be something he’d ever do, but somehow it feels right.

And when she opens her eyes and gives him a lazy smile, he knows he doesn’t ever want anything else. 

 

_orange)_

Orange, colour of the pumpkins she makes him decorate for Halloween. He makes his into a devil face and she laughs. Orange, colour of the socks she knits him as a joke. Orange, colour of the sunset they watch from the patio of their new house. She presses a kiss to his cheek and wraps herself around him until long after the day has died. 

And when she tells him she is happy, he can only agree.

 

_red)_

Red, colour of her lips when they get a night out and she smiles at him over the rim of her wine glass. Red, colour of his face when he showed her, thinking it would be the end. It wasn’t, instead it was a beginning. Red, colour of her blood on his chest the first time he saved her. The next time, it mingles with his tears as he presses his hand to her wound and pleads with her to stay.

And when she does, he promises himself that no matter what, he will never let her go.


	2. they move on tracks of never-ending light

They came together, like the tide that crashes onto the shore. In the middle of a warehouse full of debris and people and pain, their lips met.

 

They were desperate, holding onto each other. Two people afraid of drowning who were seeking the light after they had just spent hours walking in the dark, piercing together the pieces of an atrocious puzzle.

 

It had started with a call on a somber fall morning, and ended with a strategically placed bomb. In between was the twisted game of yet another cruel soul that would find its way into hell, to be punished there for all of eternity. The thought helped, and yet it didn’t at all. It couldn’t bring back the children whose lives had been ended barely after they had begun. It didn’t lessen the pain of not having found the last victim in time. It was a band-aid on a wound that was too wide and deep for it to even begin to cover it.

 

Maybe that was why they gravitated towards each other, or it was the shock of the explosion and the subsequent realization that they were still alive. In the midst of death and destruction, they were somehow still standing, still prevailing.

 

In any case, there had been something about this that made this time different from all the others, something that implored them to walk forwards, instead of away. That took all the longing looks and short touches and emotion and turned it into momentum. Two unstoppable forces, meeting halfway.

 

So here they stood, in the middle of it all, kissing, kissing as if this was the end.

 

And maybe it was. The end of something and yet also a beginning. A new chapter in a book whose pages are numbered.

 

There was earth beneath them and air in their lungs, drops of water falling heavily onto the pavement and fire in his eyes.

 

They broke apart briefly, but didn’t let go. The wind was dancing around them to a silent melody and the rain followed.

 

Neither spoke, but they didn’t have to.  They’d long deciphered the secrets in each others eyes. Their souls spoke of longing, of pain and within it, specks of hope. For something more, beyond this bleak night.

 

She had always thought that if this moment ever came she would smile. With everything that was between them, growing and growing with every late night phone call and early morning coffee, with every smile and every accidental touch, she thought that she would be joyous and elated.

 

She was none of these things now. They would come, perhaps, but right now she was only raw and desperate and needed to feel him, needed to feel alive even when, or perhaps because she had failed. And, too, because they had survived.

 

She’d never be able to turn back time and make it right, she’d never be able to unsee what she had seen. And yet, tonight she craved nothing but the light and a few brief moments of oblivion, before memory caught up.

 

Tomorrow a new day would come and they’d face it, together.

 

They’d build each other up and share the burden.

 

Right now, there was only this.

 

He seemed to read her thoughts because he leaned forwards again and claimed her lips with his. Rough and nothing like the gentle, almost shy kiss they had shared many months ago. They’d been on the verge of something then, or so she thought. But the earth spins and turns differently for everyone at times and they’d moved towards each other at different velocities, never fully connecting and only passing by before moving even further apart. She’d never thought they’d find their footing again but somehow, here they were, a few months later.

 

In the face of the ever-changing world, they’d somehow prevailed and emerged stronger from every weathered storm.

 

She’d seen his real face. He’d shown her one day, convinced that this was the end. But she didn’t turn away. He was the devil, but he wasn’t evil and his face didn’t betray what she knew lay beyond. A soul, fragile and hurt like so many that pass through the universe. Who make mistakes and fall and rise and grow and yet bear their scars for the rest of their lives.

 

She’d promised him his admission wouldn’t change anything and it hadn’t. If anything it had only brought them closer together. He no longer needed to hide who he was, and she didn’t want to.

 

Stripped bare of their facades, they faced each other again. But this time, they were in sync. This time there was no hesitation, no silent questions, only the pure need to feel the other person and the knowledge that their time together could very well be finite. And the reassurance that they whispered to themselves in the dead of the night that still, it would be worth it.

 

That hope spurred them on. His grip on her hips was almost bruising, her fingernails were digging into the skin at the nape of his neck as they pressed each other closer until every line of their bodies was touching and there was no space between them. Neither wanted to let go, neither could.

 

There’d be a time for soft and gentle later. For lazy mornings and evenings. For smiles and laughter. There’d be time for that, or so they hoped.

 

Right now, they needed to piece the fragments of their souls back together. Right now they needed to feel, the strong grip of another person, the bruising air of fall, the fluorescent lights of the cars, anything, everything, an anchor that keeps you afloat even in the strongest of storms.

 

They didn’t speak as they finally broke apart to make their way towards the exit and to her car. Night had fallen around them, dark and heavy, tonight you couldn’t see the stars. They wouldn’t have noticed them anyway.

 

Not in this moment, when all that existed was the other.

 

Tomorrow they’d drive out to see them maybe. But tomorrow was still so far away. For now it was night, black and lightless.

 

For now it was them, everything they were, and everything they could still become.

 

Shining bright, trying to inflame their own light.


	3. metamorphosis one

In the distance, the sound of sirens.

All around him, a whirlwind of colours, dancing at the edge of his vision, hazy and yet almost blinding.

It felt subdued somehow, all of it, as if the world that was turning beneath his feet was one he was no longer part of. And maybe he wasn’t.

He wondered, briefly, what would happen to him. He’d go to Hell, this much was sure, but what then?

In front of him he could already see it, the endless dark abyss of time and knew that this time, there would be no end in sight, or even just a brief reprieve like his time on earth had been.

Earth, he could feel it cold underneath his skin and yet it was so far away, tasting like the last reminder of a distant memory on his scorched tongue.

He would miss it in the cold ashen caves of hell, but even as the thought formed in his mind he knew it was only a half-truth. Because yes, he would miss _it_ , a single syllable that encompassed so much, bright city lights and dancing and alcohol and sex and freedom and the fleeting feeling of doing more than just existing and laughter and something akin to love. He would miss it, but mostly, mostly he’d just miss _her_.

Chloe. _She must be around here_ , he thought, _or else none of this would be happening_. He wouldn’t be lying on concrete ground, he wouldn’t be bleeding.

Chloe. He just wanted to see her face again, the way her hair glistened in the morning light and her smile would set fire to a long forgotten part deep inside him, hear her voice, gentle as the moon itself.

All he’d wanted was more time and yet none of it would ever have been enough. Still, some days it had felt like time was a long river stretching out in front of them. They’d skipped from stone to stone, careful to avoid the current and yet wanting to make it across. They’d given it away so freely, the little time they had together. And here he was, about to leave this place for good and it was only just beginning to set in that he would never see her again.

It hurt more, possibly, than being cast out of heaven ever could. But the chips were down and he had nothing left to bargain with. If he had, he’d give it in an instant.

All he wanted was more time.

The colours swirled all around him and the sound of the sirens grew louder. And then, so far away and faint that he almost missed it, her voice, right by his ear.

“Stay awake”, she said and he could hear her voice crack and break at the edges and all the pain and desperation and fear and longing pour out from in between. “Stay awake, please, Lucifer. Please, you have to stay awake. For me.”

The words echoed through the empty space around him. He felt her hand, warm and comforting and held on, held on to her words, her voice, the feel of her soft skin, memorized it, soaked it up.

He held on to it for as long as he could.


	4. if-then-else

If he hadn’t come to Earth, they wouldn’t have met.

 

Their lives would be different then. 

 

(If he hadn’t rebelled, he wouldn’t have fallen.)

 

* * *

 

If he hadn’t come to Earth, he wouldn’t know what it’s like to feel anything other than emptiness and anger. 

 

He wouldn’t know the calming effect of a simple touch or a soothing voice. How happiness can come from something so simple as a hug, a shared meal or a board-game night. He wouldn’t know how it feels to care so much it almost paralyses you. Or the way in which love can both hurt and heal. He wouldn’t know the joy of friendship.  And the warmth that comes from knowing someone else cares.

 

If he hadn’t come to Earth, he wouldn’t know what it’s like to  _ live _ .

 

* * *

 

If he hadn’t come to Earth, he wouldn’t have almost lost her.

 

He wouldn’t have known that the thought of losing her could destroy him. 

 

Or the feeling of pacing in a waiting room as the clock ticks by, knowing there is nothing he can do.

 

He wouldn’t have understood the meaning of time.

 

Would have never guessed that one day he would almost want to pray again. 

 

He wouldn’t have known the feeling of complete and utter relief the first time she opens her eyes again and gives him a tired but honest smile. 

 

Or what it feels like to blame himself, because it all feels like it is his fault, even when it isn’t.

 

He wouldn’t have known what it feels like to know that you have to let go.

 

If he hadn’t come to Earth, he wouldn’t have almost lost her just to almost lose her again.

 

* * *

If he hadn’t come to Earth, he wouldn’t have known how much it can hurt.

 

To be apart even if you long to be together.

 

He wouldn’t have known what it’s like to be alone even when you are not.

 

Wouldn’t have understood that sometimes love is not enough.

 

If he hadn’t come to Earth, he wouldn’t have known what it’s like to fight. 

 

Or what it’s like to make up.

 

* * *

If he hadn’t come to Earth, he wouldn’t have known what it’s like to be desperate.

 

That you can be angry and happy at the same time.

 

He wouldn’t have known the feeling of needing to be closer.

 

Or that a kiss can be bruising.

 

If he hadn’t come to Earth, he wouldn’t have known what it’s like to hold someone so close that you can feel their heart beating.

 

* * *

If he hadn’t come to Earth he wouldn’t have known the feeling of waking up to the sunlight gently dancing across your skin and strands of hair tickling your nose.

 

He wouldn’t have known what it’s like to feel so warm and complete and home.

 

Or  the joy of a whispered “hey” and lazy morning kisses.

 

He wouldn’t have known what it feels like to be unable to stop touching.

 

Or that sometimes a smile is already enough.

 

He wouldn’t have known what it’s like to feel like you have everything you need.

 

If he hadn’t come to Earth, he wouldn’t have known love.

 

* * *

 

If he hadn’t come to Earth, they wouldn’t have met.

 

They wouldn’t be  _ here _ .

 

A lot of it is not easy, but a lot of it also is.

 

And most importantly, it’s enough for them.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to request a prompt [here](https://moonatoms.tumblr.com/ask). I can't 100% guarantee that every prompt will always inspire me, but I promise I will try.


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